Leave a Note
by artemis-nz
Summary: Yuki experiences an unaccustomed moment of panic. Yuki/Shuichi.


Yuki died the day his lover left him.

Well, not literally _died._ But he felt he did. He felt his heart grow gold again, and he felt him close off to the rest of the world. It was exactly what had happened before, _exactly_. And there was no comparison, nothing in the universe with which the pain could be held against. Yes, this was dying, in a real, if not literal, sense of the word.

There was no note.

Yuki thought that Shuichi could have at least left a note. Something to explain his actions, to explain why he left, why he wasn't going to come back. Ever. Or if not a note, then... something. _Anything_. But there wasn't, not even after Yuki searched the whole house in his desperation for any clue as to why. _Why_.

It was like Shuichi. At least, not the Shuichi he knew. Not the Shuichi anyone knew. He was laughing, he was glowing, he was... he was _happy_. Wasn't he? But the thought came to Yuki that happy people didn't just pack up and leave, just like that. Without saying goodbye. It stung. It stung to think that maybe Shuichi wasn't happy. But if he wasn't, why hadn't he said anything? Because it simply wasn't like Shuichi to keep something like that locked away, all to himself inside...

Or was it?

Yuki looked around at the now chaotic house, things thrown everywhere, everything messy. His mess – not Shuichi's. He hadn't even taken his clothes, his CD;s, his comics... had Shuichi been _that_ eager to get away? And so the terrifying thought struck him – was it like Shuichi after all? Yuki thought he knew his lover, but perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he never had. So that meant that Shuichi may not ever have been happy, and Yuki never knew. All this time, and he never even suspected. Never even thought about the possibility.

Yuki knew he was cold. That was his personality, his defense mechanism against a world full of people that had dealt him too much, too fast. Was his coldness enough to drive Shuichi away. It had driven lots of people away over the years. Girls, mostly, who all wanted to get under his skin. To prove that Yuki _did_ have a heart, that he _did_ have some sensitivity under the icy demeanor. They all gave up, one after the other like domino's. They all went off crying, bitterly proclaiming Yuki as someone deaf to the world. And maybe he was, back then. But Shuichi never gave up, though Yuki threw everything at him. He was rude, he was abusive, he was insensitive to the point of disgusting even himself despite being used to it. Through it all, Shuichi never left, eventually proving to Yuki that the writer could do nothing to deter him, and that Yuki did have a heart after all. A heart that, though broken, was still able to feel. Still able to _love_.

So why now? Why, after everything they had been through, together, did he leave? Running through his words and his actions over the last few days, weeks... there was nothing. Nothing Yuki could recall he said or did that would make Shuichi leave. And nothing from Shuichi that would indicate he was going to.

Did they all know? This was maybe the most chilling thought of all. Were his friends, his band, all in on it? Had they known for weeks what was going to happen, that Shuichi would just... disappear, never to enter Yuki's door, his life, again? Were they even now laughing about it, congratulating themselves on such an idea going smoothly, with Yuki, poor, insensitive Yuki never knowing until it was too late to do a thing? It was... it was unfair. It was something Yuki didn't want to contemplate for fear he would throw up. The taste of bile was already welling in his throat. Not tears. Vomit. He knew too well the choking feeling, suffocation...

"Yuki!"

Now he was hallucinating. That was his first thought. At least it was something new, something he could think about in hopes of distracting himself from-

"Yuki!"

There it was again, the voice, closer, only that of his lover... who wasn't there. He wasn't there. The writer clenched his teeth, trying to rid himself of the voice that would surely make him go mad if he heard it again-

"Yuki?"

It was accompanied by a touch on his shoulder, making him jump. He spin around, losing his balance. The person – whichever cruel person behind him, making his heart beat too fast for him to feel anything but a low buzzing in his ears – fell with him, landing with a smothered kind of 'oomph', solidly on his chest. Yuki's eyes were closed as he fell, winded from his back breaking the fall. His first, real thought was that at least it wasn't a ghost, or himself going mad.

He opened his eyes.

"Uhh... Yuki? Did I scare you?"

'Scare' was an understatement, in Yuki's opinion. He had never had a heart attack before, but was pretty certain that he had just come close. It was all too real – Shuichi's shock of pink hair, his bright eyes, even the faint smell of his shampoo... it was Shuichi, all over, and Yuki felt faint. He couldn't say a word.

"Are you okay? You look really weird. And the house is a mess... Ryuichi didn't come over, did he? He couldn't have, he was with me..."

Yuki blinked, his heart now beating loudly enough that he felt Shuichi might hear it. Who was still on top of him, looking innocently into Yuki's eyes like nothing had happened, like Yuki's life hadn't just ended and begun again in the space of half an hour. It took another full minute for Yuki to find his voice.

"... I think I'm going to be sick."

There was no time to even walk to the bathroom. Yuki simply rolled over, pushing the warm body off his own to hang his head and retch, disgustingly. Nothing came out but bile and water, since he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday... he remembered he had skipped dinner and breakfast, already feeling a little ill.

"Oh, you're sick! I thought you looked really pale. Here, c'mon..."

Shuichi pulled Yuki up, gripping his wrist, tugging him to the bedroom. Yuki's brain began to function again.

"I thought you left", he mumbled. "You didn't leave a note-"

"Huh?" Shuichi turned to face him, eyes wide with astonishment. "I _told_ you I would be out for the day, remember?" Yuki's face remained blank – he recalled no such thing. "Last night?" Shuichi prompted. "You were at the computer? I said I'd be at the studio? And you kinda grunted and told me to leave you alone since you were working on that last chapter-"

"I... oh. Oh. Shit." This last word was uttered as a whispered groan. Yuki's head was pounding fit to explode, his legs shaky. He didn't know what to think any more. Shuichi looked sympathetic.

"I guess you forgot. You were kinda sick at the time, remember you skipped dinner? But you look worse now, you didn't skip breakfast as well, did you? You have to look after yourself, Yuki!" Shuichi sniffled a bit, looking quite cast down. Yuki had to hold back a snort of almost hysterical laughter... Shuichi had just come back, completely out of the blue, and he was worried about how much Yuki had been _eating?_

Shuichi hovered anxiously by, every inch the concerned lover while Yuki drained a cup of water, and then another because he was suddenly desperately thirsty. The clothes were still thrown over the bed, multiple colours of orange and yellow and green. All Shuichi colours. There was even a shirt by Yuki's pillow, where his head now rested.

"Okay now? I think you should sleep for a bit, you still look pale-"

He was cut off when Yuki yanked him down by the hand.

I'll only sleep if you sleep too", he said, not caring if he sounded childish. Shuichi didn't protest, but snuggled up next to him.

"'Kay", he replied, yawning. "I guess I am pretty tired, even though we had breaks for in the studio. But did you finish you're chapter? I wasn't awake when you came to bed last night-"

"It doesn't matter", interrupted Yuki. "Just... go to sleep. Please."

He wasn't annoyed, even if he sounded it. Just exhausted. And still recovering from a potential heart attack. Shuichi yawned again, contentedly.

"'Night, Yuki."

"..."

"Yuki?"

"..."

"Yuki, are you sniffing my shirt?"

"No."

Yuki closed his eyes and slept, the shirt now buried under his pillow. His last thought was that next time, he would get Shuichi to leave a note.


End file.
